


What A Lovely Prison

by shadow_hood



Category: Phantomarine
Genre: 5 Stages of Grief, Angst, Denial, I made Cheth a woobie and I have no regrets, Loss, Prison, puppetry, someone give him a hug okay, underworld god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:42:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24396742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_hood/pseuds/shadow_hood
Summary: For a thousand years, Cheth entertained himself with his puppet corpses down below.Until he wasn't able to pretend anymore.
Relationships: implied Cheth/Phaedra if you squint hard enough
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	What A Lovely Prison

The first thousand years weren't too bad. 

_Sister dearest_ , as Cheth likes to acerbically spit out, _just gave him a gift. I mean, who wants to live that pompous birdbrain? He's free to do what he wants!_

He finally got the kingdom he asked for and his own loyal subjects. _Who would **dare** speak up in his kingdom_, he laughed, twirling in the water. 

...who indeed? All the corpses intoned back at him. 

"WHAT A LOVELY PRISON!" Cheth laughed, his glee apparent. "I can do a LOT here! Watch me, sister dearest, as I have the best entertainment, the best usage of my time HERE! HA!" 

* * *

If there's one thing you could call Cheth, you can call him meticulous. He scrutinized each and every soul he collected and gave them a niche of their own. Each corpse was lovingly cared for, assiduously categorized and kept for a later time. He even gave them names of their own. 

_Duchess Long Legs_ , Cheth simpered as she twirled around in a gown that must have cost many merchant's purses. 

_Fat poet_ , Cheth chortled as he possessed a scholar with a portly stomach. 

_Warmonger merchant_ , Cheth posed as she swung her golden sword. 

_Son of dreams,_ Cheth quietly spoke, strolling as a man once filled with dreams and aspirations beyond the laws of nature.

 _Father and mother tragedy,_ Cheth stared as they held onto each other tightly, just like how they came to Cheth. 

....... _brother and sister starlight,_ Cheth whispered, one twin staring into the sad eyes of the other.

**"WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT?!"** The empty eyes of the corpses gazed back at him, as Cheth circled around each of them. Today was a hard day, because it was a sunny day. Sunny days are always bad days. 

They were a reminder of what he's lost. 

"You! You, you, _**YOU**_!" He pointed to each of the corpses in turn. "Can't anyone say something? I feel like I'm talking to myself here! Not like I got much to do, you know!"

_New entertainment! That's it!_ , Cheth thought. _I just need new entertainment, I'm just bored!_

Macabre plays were made. Sometimes Cheth made lovers pantomime poisoning each other. He made sword masters become cowards in the face of a mouse, or crusaders who stood by as a dragon ate the villagers. One donkey trader was made to bray and act like a donkey in front of a countess. But it was nothing compared to his plays, oh, his plays of siblings. Particularly if they were a brother and a sister.

The brother always triumphed in those plays. And the brother always....ALWAYS killed the sister. Cheth was very creative about the how. 

After each of those sibling plays, Cheth's plays grew crueler and more callous.

And so did his treatment of the living. His tests of strength, his tests of wisdom, valor, skill became the stuff of legend. 

Now _no one_ dared to cross him. 

_No one_ , he murmured as he stared up at the water, at the countless lamps lit for the dead. Today was supposed to be a good day. The dead were celebrated and loved, cherished and adored by their family and close ones. Homemade food and supplies were lovingly placed in the floating wicker baskets, filled with ruby Catalian wine and jarred berry preserves, crusty grained bread and the crispiest duck meat. The lights glowed a luminescent light on the families at the shore, children laughing with their skull masks, gossip hens gathering around to hawk their knowledge, the workers of yesterday and tomorrow clanking their ales together for their twilight stories. It was supposed to be _his_ day. 

So why does it hurt so much?

Why does he feel this pain, this wave of sadness that threatened to drown him, as he gazed up at the people up there. As he saw a family....mother, father, daughter and son together, happy?

As he saw finally what his predicament really was, what it was intended. An imprisonment, a mockery of a kingdom.

As he saw what was ripped away from him, all the potential, all the life, all the happiness and camaraderie and joy he could have experienced.

_That's funny._ His eyes stared up in fury, in jealousy, in betrayal, in loss. _That's....funny._

The world celebrated as a god cried. The world shone with lights and joy as the Red Tide King mourned down below, a few feet away from them, his increasing tears only witnessed by the empty dead surrounding him. 

The world likes to pretend that they can't hear or see an undead god's grief. 

* * *

But down below the depths, down, down below the tides, Cheth sobbed in his despair. Perhaps if there was someone down there, perhaps if there was someone who wasn't a mindless soul down below, it would be some comfort to know that he wasn't alone in his watery prison.

Perhaps, as a soft yellow glow looked on down below, as a golden haired soul looked sadly on at the despairing god. 

She reached out to him, and he looked up at her. Their eyes stayed on each other, grey on red, light on dark. 

A standstill in the lovely prison. 

_Perhaps._


End file.
